Monday, May 23, 2011

-----------------------------------A feint

  A handy andy man she was ? A schizio ladder? a table a rent a pent

-------------------------little ladder did he make thee?
round the wind off the lake too many ambulaters? Of such as these has been no one... time's off the sensual seeing essence    ~ O patwish! O plato! O my aristotle throttle! O

 _______________________________Jill rubs her back against the inward onion. She's a made her outside inside to its between boob knockers!
O owch!

Mona's fragment mouth

 Hubub! to her frag mouth/ Piece of/curl to its twinning two chorse, double layer double jinxed lover to her storming. Strongman lover barn to its sail   ~ Not sale's pitch but yeoman to her baker. June's the month of hideyhide and wanktank! War and its zone! a zone,a road, a breach, a rea  ~ you break off the letter mouth, as clutter stumblebum your waking effet feet . Her tits, babble boozle to her hangone look.A nd the woman speaking in the window utterly self possessed yet as any lover she's oozing it . Two to the zigzagger ziggarut  of her time. A puff she's haling  a cigarette a breast the sleeve of her blouse falling down was she seeing Jacky seeing her see?  Possibly meant to see be seen obscene her lover's glad catch. Like simple plays to rut talksthe speech of lover's go.

                       She always hears this. The heartyharhar of goofy men goggles askew on her slanting arse. Ass is what yanks say.. she's a slut to the harpoon dock no matter to her way of thinking. Which is striking to the Penelope aboard, but reeking to the rest of 'em. what she says is this: 
                                                                   Paris or bust! me galore. A gorgeous weed  funky as the cylinder she's hearing . A day a wheat a wrong righted presents no serious addendum to her injury's help. Legitmate receipts wrinkle the nose of would be loving hers as she's abed with Franny's jukebox tune. Smooth as the old plane of consistency itself   ~ 


Wednesday, May 18, 2011


 Hold your horses ! your skateboards. Moan Mona along the gliding bed of dentata  ~ date entry to middle pleat, the plateau of cake and onions, chance card to the burying song, cart to the amazing summer of sun   ~its ring round Saturn is the pawl of the inward ring the onion ring    ~ Jill hefting the machine gun of her thigh crackling burnished to summer's rent. and the pal went down hence all fortunes are flung to the wind lover's fling as witching brooms     ~  something to raise blue and blue and other blue passage to the winged horses, zebras, centaur to a word 

Jill and her tousled hair double lover to the mix max page jeep and  readies her double lover glitch the campaign arising from   cellar mates kerning and keening    ~. It's an Irish way and its barrowing along country roads and lanes does the trick   ~ triumphant as any Knight her riding boots got pins and rimed tires caps that sparkle in dark after moon showing   ~"
  Jill and her gang haranguing the auguries '  So it is coming to become red to blue green to red scarlet and trampoline 
                                               and all the dark colour between   ~.

Tuesday, May 03, 2011

hey what ho !

She gave her a clothes line in the face, elbow driving  her right into the boards,
an arm shiver, next thing you k now she was tearing it apart on the ground ,
for to tell the heaven. It was darling groundless abyss  becoming and the Dardanelles and the monsters also and the pithy eyed gods the Assyrian mammoooth and Dogone the traitor in blue skinned to the bone
with predator's finer fingers, shackles,  wheels and thought; And not
a secret to him
and the offal the tents

and along the ground river berry
ridges of other nameless ones a soughing on the Volga
the terrible thread of snow coming in

Are mad my Mona kissing her the wind pulling tearing
her buckle made a rise in
a c ross the 
she's a breast of it

now tooting the fortune hot as blazes and
at the other meadow lilac and laburnum?
ushering the dew pressed heather

linen and geese honking along a factory of tents
and the newspaper hearts go to greet the willow
the elm drooped by her page and white flame burnished burning
      crested iridescent at the top of the gage

winning this route we backed out Mona chaired along the backs of things ruins they'd call'd them but seeing as they was looking in their microscopic element they'd found better and more earnest things to plague them bell fragment inclined to doctoral stethoscopes and her rare smile large alfalfa pulsing
in Ireland in Alabama in rose-weed and teak

the fins green a wind a wide a pine
pining in my heart this breathless longing
Mona's fair pine
mercury to the grey misted gleams of glassware

________________ The slim march ~ .